


The Night Moves

by amathela



Series: Further Adventures At WizTech [1]
Category: Wizards of Waverly Place
Genre: F/M, Incest, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-09-19
Updated: 2009-09-19
Packaged: 2017-10-03 11:55:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amathela/pseuds/amathela
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Justin and Alex find themselves trapped in a closet, with no way out and nothing to do.  (Well, okay, maybe not with <i>nothing</i> to do.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Night Moves

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers up to episode _1:14 - Wizard School (Part Two)._

"Quick, get in here!"

Justin doesn't really have time to react before Alex is dragging him into the closet beside her, and he's about to tell her this is a really, really bad idea when she closes the door behind them.

"Alex -"

"Shh," she says, and he'd argue more, but he can hear the voices getting closer, now, stopping just outside the room. Part of him just wants to open the door and face whoever is out there, but that would mean having to tell them why he's hiding in a closet with his sister, and if there's any way he can avoid having to explain that one, he'd really like to. Especially since he isn't quite sure himself.

It has nothing to do with the way Alex is currently pressed up against him, her fingers soft against his mouth. At all.

He tries to shuffle backwards, to put some space between them, and eventually settles for moving her hand away from his face. He maybe holds onto it a few seconds too long, until he's really just holding her hand, and he lets go as soon as he realises.

"Let me just get the contract," a voice says, close enough now that Justin recognises the speaker as Professor Dinklemeyer. He freezes, trying not to make any noise that might give them away; beside him, he can hear Alex holding her breath.

"I like what you've done with the office," someone else says, and it's easy for Justin to identify Professor Crumbs. "Very festive."

Creepy, Justin would have said, but maybe he's been a little oversensitive to wall hangings ever since the wallpaper incident.

"Ah, here it is," Professor Dinklemeyer says, and there's the sound of a drawer sliding closed. "Shall we discuss it outside?"

A few seconds later there are footsteps, slowly fading away, and Justin waits until he's sure they're gone. Then he turns to Alex, who he can barely make out in the dim light filtering through from the room outside, and raises his eyebrows expectantly.

"Now can you tell me what we're doing in here?" he asks.

"Hiding," Alex says, as if it should be obvious, and he rolls his eyes.

"I mean, what we're doing in Professor Dinklemeyer's office."

"I was investigating," she says. "I don't know what you were doing."

"I was following you," he says, because it seems like every time he's ever gotten into trouble, it's been Alex's fault. And maybe he should stop trying to help her, but he isn't really sure if he knows how. "What were you investigating, anyway?"

"Professor Dinklemeyer," she says, and he can hear the silent _duh_ at the end of it.

"Why?"

"I don't trust him," she says, like that's supposed to be the end of it.

"Alex," he says. "He's a professor."

"Yeah, well, so was Professor Evilini."

Justin shudders a little; he can't help it. Alex is standing close enough that she probably feels it, too. "Professor Evilini was different."

"As far as you know," she says. "I think he's up to something."

"Alex -"

"He's evil!"

"He isn't evil," Justin says. Sometimes, he thinks Alex's imagination is too vivid for her own good. "He's just ... eccentric."

"The last one was evil," she says, and okay, so he can't exactly fault her on that.

"That doesn't mean every professor we get is going to be evil."

"Oh, yeah?" she asks. "Well, what about his laugh?"

"Everyone around here laughs like that," he says, and it's true. It makes being in the wizarding world kind of uncomfortable sometimes.

"Only the evil ones," she says, and he can almost hear her pouting. "And if he's not evil, what was all that stuff with the contract?"

"It was probably just his employment contract or something," Justin says, and he's almost sure he believes it.

"Or it's an evil contract that's going to drain Professor Crumbs' powers," Alex says, and he tries not to shudder again. They haven't even been here a month, and already he has way too many bad memories of this place.

"Look," he says, in his most reasonable tone. Or at least, in the most reasonable tone he can usually adopt with Alex. "There's no reason to suspect that Professor Dinklemeyer is evil."

"But -"

"Alex."

"Fine," she says. "Can we just get out of here?"

Finally, a good idea. Justin reaches for the door, and -

Nothing.

Alex shifts beside him, and he tries again.

"Oh, no," he says.

Alex moves a little closer, and Justin has to steady himself so he doesn't accidentally trip over his own feet or something. "What do you mean, 'oh no?' That sounds bad."

"It is bad," he says. He tries the door again, and Alex does the same, but neither of them have any better luck.

"Tell me," she says, "we're not trapped in here."

He takes a deep breath. "We're trapped in here."

"Justin!"

"What, like this is all my fault? You're the one who pulled us in here!"

"Yeah, well you could have told me this was a magical closet!"

"It's Wiz Tech," he says. "Everything here is magical."

"Is everything here supposed to trap you in closets, too?"

Probably only the closets, he thinks, but he doesn't say it. The last thing they need right now is to get into a shouting match.

(Okay, the last thing they actually need right now is to be stuck here, but it's a little late to prevent that one.)

"Can't you fix it?" she asks, like he wouldn't have done that already if he knew how. This isn't exactly how he planned to spend his evening.

He's about to say something, but Alex moves again, and then she's holding up her wand.

"We'll scream and we'll shout if you don't let us out," she says, and there's a brief flare of light from her wand, but nothing else happens.

"Alex," he says. "It's a magical closet, remember?"

"Yeah, well, I don't see you coming up with anything."

"That's because -"

"The portal key!" she says, and she's so close it sounds like she's yelling directly into his ear. "Please tell me you have it."

"Of course I have it," he says.

"Oh, thank -"

"In my room."

She glares at him - he thinks - as she puts her wand away. "Well, how is that supposed to help us?"

"I didn't say it would."

"Well," she says, "how are we supposed to get out of here?"

That's a really good question.

"Justin?"

"I'm thinking," he says, but mostly, he's really thinking about how of course it's Alex's fault that they're in this mess, and of course he followed her right into it.

"And?"

"And I don't know, okay?" he says.

Alex sighs, wriggling around in the limited space available to them, and he's about to ask her what she's doing when she speaks first.

"I thought these things were supposed to be bigger on the inside."

"Only if you charm them," he says, and he's almost glad for something different to talk about, except that all the moving around Alex was doing is making it a little hot in here, and kind of hard to breathe. "Maybe Professor Dinklemeyer doesn't have that many clothes."

Actually, now that she mentions it, he doesn't seem to have any clothes in here at all. Which is a little odd, but at least it makes things slightly less crowded.

"Well, can we charm it?" she asks.

"No magic, remember?" he says, and when she sighs, he can feel the air puffing out against his shoulder.

And, okay, this is getting really, really uncomfortable.

Justin tries to move, shifting until his back hits the side of the closet, but it doesn't really help. The closet really is ridiculously small; honestly, what made Alex think hiding in here would possibly be a good idea?

"What are you doing?" she asks, and he really wishes she would stop talking. Or existing. Not that he's mad at her, exactly, but having her this close to him really isn't making things any easier.

"Just trying to get comfortable," he says. He doesn't know why, but suddenly, it seems like admitting that he's trying to put as much space between them as possible would be a bad idea.

"Yeah, well, join the club," she says. Only instead of moving back, she moves forward, and it seems like all the effort he's gone through in the last couple of minutes was for nothing. If anything, he thinks they're probably standing even closer now.

"Can you -" he says, and then stops, because he thinks he really doesn't want to go there.

"What?" Alex asks. She never was able to just let things drop.

"Can you ... stop moving?" he asks.

"Why?" she asks. "I'm not any more comfortable that you are."

"It's ..." _Different._ He's almost certain that she isn't uncomfortable for the same reason he is, right now. "It's just really cramped in here, okay?"

"I know that," she says, but she doesn't stop moving, inching closer, and seriously, is she trying to kill him? "Maybe if we just -"

Her bright idea, it seems, is standing even closer to him, her palms flat against his shoulders, until his hands really have nowhere to go except around her waist. He expects her to object, to tell him to stop touching her or something, but she doesn't, and he really, really wishes she would.

Because even if it isn't bothering her, it's bothering him. A lot.

"That's kind of better?" she says, and he wants to tell her that no, it isn't better at all, it's worse, but that would mean having to admit what he isn't even ready to admit to himself yet.

Which is that being trapped in here with Alex really doesn't feel like a bad thing at all.

"Um," he says, instead. "Yeah."

Wow. Way to be articulate.

But seriously, if Alex doesn't stop moving soon, he thinks he's going to lose all higher brain function altogether.

"It's hot," she says, by way of explanation, and at least that's not just him. But the way she's shifting against him, her chest pressing against the top of his ribs, her skirt swishing against his thighs - yeah, that's provoking a reaction that's definitely all him, and that has nothing at all to do with the heat.

"Alex -" His fingers tighten around her waist, in a way that he's pretty sure his brain had nothing to do with, and he has to stop himself, because he's honestly not sure if he was about to ask her to stop, or, god, to keep moving.

"What?" she asks, tilting her head up to him, and if he didn't know better, he'd swear she knows exactly what she's doing to him, swear she's doing it on purpose.

"Just ... stop, okay?"

"I'm still not comfortable," she says. As if to illustrate the point, her hips shift against his midsection, and his grip on her tightens again, until he's sure he must be hurting her. "You're kind of -"

_Oh,_ he thinks, as soon as she says it, and suddenly, this is a much bigger problem than it was a minute ago. Because he knows exactly why she can't get comfortable, and in his head, he starts running through a list of all the ways he could possibly kill himself once they out of here.

Jumping off the Tower of Evil. Volunteering as a practice dummy in their combat spells class. Confessing the truth to Alex.

"It's my, um, wand," he says.

Except his wand is in his back pocket, and that's almost exactly where Alex's hands are now.

There's a moment of silence, and Justin starts mentally kicking himself - for not coming up with a better excuse, for not pushing her away earlier, for following her in here, for wanting to come to Wiz Tech in the first place - and then Alex says, in a quiet voice, "Oh."

Oh? That's it? She really isn't going to give him a hard time about this?

Okay, bad choice of words. She isn't going to tease -

Fuck. Justin's pretty sure he's never had this much trouble thinking before.

And he really isn't sure what he's expecting - for Alex to slap him, maybe, or try to curse him, even though they can't use magic in here - but he definitely isn't expecting her to move again, pressing closer against him.

He'd ask her what the hell she thinks she's doing, but - maybe the less said about this, the better?

(And maybe he really doesn't want to question this, even if he thinks he should probably want it to stop.)

Really, Justin thinks, he could go one of two ways here. He could push her away - as far as the limited space in the closet will allow - keep his distance, wait for this thing to blow over, and never speak of it again.

Or he could do exactly what he does right now, which is to release his grip on her a little, move his hands so they're positioned above her hips, and walk her backwards until she's the one pressed up against the wall.

Alex lets out a little squeak of surprise, but it doesn't sound like an objection, and he waits, just to make sure. Because if he's going to do this (and he can't believe he's even considering it; he thinks there must be some charm or spell on the closet that makes people trapped in here too long start to go crazy, or maybe it's just the lack of oxygen), he isn't going to do it without being certain it's what she wants, too.

The objection never comes, and he takes a deep breath, mostly just to reassure himself he's still alive and breathing.

Then he moves his hands down, slowly, until they're bunching up the hem of her skirt.

He can hear Alex breathing now, too, a little unsteady. Her hands slip down from his shoulders until they're flush against his chest, and for a single, horrifying moment, he thinks she's going to push him away. Then they keep moving, skimming over his stomach, until her fingers are hooked into the top of his pants.

And then it feels like he can't move at all, and is it just him, or is the air in here really, really thin?

One of them, he knows, is going to have to make a move sooner or later, take them past the point of no return. That really seems like it would be Alex's thing, but under the circumstances, he thinks it's probably going to have to be him.

After all, he's the one who started all of this. And he thinks he's probably screwed already, no matter which way this ends up going.

So he moves his hands up, instead of down, over the top of her shirt, skimming the edge of her breasts. She gasps in a way that hits him hard and low, and he does it again, provoking the same reaction. And then he moves his hand a little, feels her nipples harden under his touch, and if she stopped him right now, he thinks he'd almost be okay with it.

Well, maybe not okay. But he's not so sure he'd regret it, either.

But Alex doesn't stop him, and he thinks he wasn't really expecting her to.

His hands slide down, under her shirt, and her skin is warm to the touch, soft, and god, if this isn't some amazingly vivid dream, he's probably going to hell for this. She arches into him, making soft little gasping sounds that he never knew could be so hot, and he pulls her flush against him, resisting the urge to growl or try to do something stupidly manly that would probably only make Alex laugh at him.

His hands slide down over her hips, bunching her skirt up around her waist, at about the same time that her hands start to fumble at the button of his pants. And suddenly he knows, with a clarity that definitely wasn't there before, exactly where all of this is going.

(It's really, really hot in here, and it's only fitting.)

Justin tugs at Alex's tights as she finally gets the button undone, and then his hands are skimming back up over her thighs, sliding inward, until one hand is pressed firmly between her legs, the other clutching at her waist for support. She's so warm there, already wet, and when he moves slowly this time, he doesn't think it's nerves so much as wanting to savour the moment.

It's not like he's actually done this before, but he reads more than just textbooks and wizarding volumes, and he knows, if not exactly what to do, at least the basic idea. He moves his hand down over her underwear, stopping at what he's pretty sure is the right point, and presses lightly, testing - then, when he moves up a little, Alex gasps, jerking against him, and that's got to be it.

He circles the spot with his thumb, pressing a little harder, and Alex's hands have completely stilled on his pants, her head thrown back. And he's almost glad she's not touching him, because if she did, this would all be over way too soon, and he's pretty sure that's not what he wants.

"Justin," Alex says, so softly he's only partly sure he didn't imagine it, and then, "Justin, god, please." And he definitely didn't imagine that.

Still, it takes him a moment to realise exactly what she's saying, and oh, okay. Yeah. That. And, wow, suddenly this is actually happening, and it's this huge, incredible thing.

This huge, incredible thing that maybe they're rushing, and is maybe a terrible idea, but -

He doesn't think he could stop now, even if he wanted to.

He removes his hands from her almost reluctantly, and unzips his pants, shoving them down past his knees as Alex does the same with her underwear. And there are a million things he should be thinking about right now - like how they don't have any protection, like maybe how they shouldn't be doing this in the first place - but he's pretty much incapable of thinking about anything right now except for Alex, ready and half-naked in front of him.

And he thinks, for the first time in his life, that maybe thinking is overrated.

He positions himself as she kind of wraps one leg around his waist, and then he's pushing in, slowly, and, yeah, thinking is definitely overrated. Because if he'd stopped to think about any of this, it wouldn't be happening, and that -

That would be bad, he thinks.

He's trying to go slowly, to let her adjust, but it's difficult, and he ends up pushing in a little too hard. Alex gasps - in pain, he thinks, this time, instead of pleasure - and he freezes.

"Sorry," he says, and he pushes back the hair framing her face, cupping her cheek.

"It's okay," she says, after a second, and then she's the one urging him on, taking the lead, and somehow it finally feels like they're centred again. She moves a little, slowly, and he tries not to push, to let her set the pace, and eventually her breathing becomes a little more regular, and she says, "Harder."

So he complies, a little because he's always ended up doing pretty much whatever Alex wants, and mostly because he really, really wants this, too.

He's not quite sure how either of them are managing to keep their balance, but she's got one leg hooked around his waist, her hands laced around the back of his neck, and he's trying to keep them both steady and upright and moving, and somehow it's all working out. And he really doesn't have the will to question it any more than that, because he's focusing on other things, like how tight she is around him, and the way she arches her back and lets out this soft little whimpering sound whenever he hits a certain spot, and the tension building low in his stomach that means he's really, really close.

"Alex," he says, and, "I think," and then he's pulling out of her before it's too late, stroking himself a couple of times, leaning on one arm and bracing himself against the wall for support. Which he really, really needs, because he's pretty sure he's going to collapse otherwise.

"Did I -" he asks, and Alex shakes her head; he feels the movement more than he sees it. And he'd say more - apologise, maybe, or ask if she's okay - but he's not really sure he trusts himself to speak.

He places a hand on her stomach, instead, and Alex's fingers curl around it, and then she's guiding his hand lower, back down, and okay. He can do this for her. It takes him a few seconds to find the same spot as before, and then his fingers are curling in, a little, rubbing in small, quick circles, and he thinks he can feel it when she starts to get close, her entire body tightening -

And then she's coming apart again, shaking a little, and he holds onto her waist with his free hand to steady her. She makes a noise that could almost be a sigh, except louder, and then she's pushing him away, but only for a second. And he thinks he gets it, because he wasn't exactly sure when he should stop, but now he knows.

Not that he's expecting to ever need that knowledge again, or anything, but -

Well, maybe it wouldn't be the end of the world. And maybe he even wants to, a little, but Alex still hasn't said anything - hasn't had the chance - and he really has no idea what's going to happen now, so maybe he should just stop thinking about this.

For a moment there's just silence, and the two of them, and the tight space that suddenly doesn't feel too small any more. And then Alex moves, or he moves, and they're breaking apart, hiking their clothes back up and fixing themselves until they're maybe almost presentable. It doesn't really do anything to hide the unmistakable smell of sex, or the way Alex's hair is probably all messed up, or any of the million other things that are probably going to give them away. But, well. At least they're dressed, and it helps, a little.

"I'm -" he says, and he's glad when Alex stops him, because he really isn't sure what he was going to say after that. It just felt like he should say something, really. But then she's kissing him, which is different, and a little weird (and it probably shouldn't be, after what they just did, but it feels that way, anyway, like this is a whole different line they're crossing). And, mostly, it feels good.

And, okay, maybe he's hoping there will be a next time, because he thinks he could get used to this.

"We still need to find a way out of here," she says, after one kiss and before the next, and honestly, he'd almost forgotten about that part.

"Um," he says, because it's really hard to think when Alex is trailing kisses down his neck, and he's still not sure he's fully recovered from the past few minutes. "We could try asking nicely?"

Alex snorts, and it's nice to see this hasn't affected her ability to make fun of him in any way, but she takes half a step back, anyway, and says, "Please let us out?"

Justin really doesn't know which of them is more surprised when it actually works.

"Um," she says, and he's too shocked to even say that much. The light in the office is bright compared to the closet, even at this late hour, and he'd almost forgotten what fresh air tasted like. "That was easy."

"Yeah," he says, because he can't quite believe it himself.

"So ... basically, we could have done that, like, an hour ago?"

He wants to apologise, to tell her that, really, he hadn't planned any of this, but she's smiling a little, and he thinks she probably knows. There's no way he'd ever be that smooth, anyway.

"Wait," he says, and then he takes out his wand, points it in the direction of the closet, and says, "fresh air is great, freedom is nice, let's be thorough and clean the closet twice."

He really doesn't want to think about what he just cleaned up; he's only happy that it worked.

"How come you could use magic?" Alex asks, and he shrugs.

"Magic doesn't work inside the closet," he says. "It still works on the closet."

Alex looks a little surprised, and he's about to admit that he hadn't been certain that it would work, either, but - well, maybe this doesn't mean he has to start telling her everything.

(And if he's being really honest, now, he knows things are going to change, but maybe not everything has to.)

"So," she says. "That was -"

And before she can brush it off, or act like it was nothing, he reaches out on impulse to take her hand. Because he's pretty sure whatever she was going to say would have hurt, and maybe they both just need some time to cool down from this.

"We should probably get out of here," he says, and she nods, but he doesn't let go of her hand until they're halfway down the corridor, and he's still smiling when they reach the main hall.

(And he holds onto that thought; maybe not everything has to change.)


End file.
